


Malpractice

by DarkestPorn (ManiLand)



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Come on, F/M, Like, They fuck within ten minutes of meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManiLand/pseuds/DarkestPorn
Summary: There's a new mask in town, and since the Plague Doctor takes an interest in masks, she follows the weary traveler. He is not keen to her company, but he warms up to her very, very quickly.Shitty little porn fic I wrote for /aco/'s Darkest Dungeon thread. I take requests, and feedback is much appreciated.





	Malpractice

It had been nearly a week since four adventurers wandered down the Estate, venturing forth into the Cove in an effort to push back the abominations plaguing the seamen. To those four, it had seemed like a lot longer. It had been a grueling affair, navigating those accursed halls in an effort to snuff out their kind. They’d come from every angle. Stabbing, slicing, infecting.

Luckily, Paracelsus knew how to handle herself around those creatures. Most of them melted at a whim of her creations. All it took was the fling of a volatile bag in the right direction. If that didn’t work, her knife to their eyes did. She’d shown the other adventurers that the scales took the brunt of the damage. Disease was the best offense. Disease that she knew how to create, using their surroundings to concoct poisons to turn against them. Junia argued that she wasn’t a  _ real _ doctor, but she changed her tone when she watched one of those things crumble before her. Paracelsus only grinned beneath her mask, knowing no one could see the twisted gaze in her eyes as they flicked all over the decomposing body for the details.

“Good riddance,” She’d grunt loudly, knowing that if she stared for too long, the others would grow weary of her.

They’d manage to leave with their better parts, and plenty of treasures in their sacks. Junia was shaken, muttering praises to the Light as she vanished into the church. Dismas and Boudica made their way to the tavern, eager to spend their gold on drinking and gambling, and whatever pleasures of the flesh their sought. But Paracelsus was interested in other things. Most notably, the new arrivals that had stepped off of the carriage mere moments before they’d arrived. Through her goggles, she’d managed to spot a few interesting identifiers. A crossbow, a turban, a  _ dog _ (which she would most certainly pet, this she swore), and a mask.

The mask tugged at her interests the most. Even more so than the dog, shockingly enough. There weren’t many masked individuals stepping off of that carriage, and the last one she’d tried to interact with only snorted at her. The mask he wore must have been metal, and it was certainly of interesting craft. It only left his mouth uncovered, and the flesh underneath looked marred. The more she caught, the more her interest grew. He’d turned from the carriage, failing to notice the woman’s beak as it traced his footsteps past the inn and into the woods. Like the Survivalist, whom Paracelsus had only met once before, it seemed as if the man in the mask preferred the outdoors. Even in the chill of the night. 

The doctor followed, staying in the shadows of toppled trees, using the branches as cover to keep herself hidden. The figure wandered down a hill, and she struggled to get up from behind a log to give chase. When she scanned the horizon, she found that the figure had vanished. Nowhere to be found. A huff came from her, fogging her goggles from the inside. A groan.

The sound of the swing predated its directive, even underneath the mask and all of the things she wore. Paracelsus yelped, ducking as the blade swung past her head and sailed right into the tree next to her. It lodged itself deep within the wood, blasting chips in several directions. “What in the hell?!” She said as she spun on her heel to face her attacker, yelping when she saw its massive form closer than she believed. That spin landed her on her rear, and she immediately began to scramble backwards in an effort to get a better look at the thing.It was the man she’d been following. The man in the mask. He grunted at her, stepping forward as she scrambled back yet again.

“Who are you?” He grunts to her, his hand fondling for the handle to his sword, dislodging it with ease after a few tugs. It thuds to the ground, and he grunts to settle it on his shoulder. “Why are you following me?”

“Easy there,” the doctor says as she gets to her feet, “I’m hardly your enemy.”

“I’ll decide that,” he says, stepping further and grabbing her by her coat. She flinches and begins to squirm in his hold, and he frowns when he notices how tight it is to her person. “Afraid of the plague, are you? It’d do you no good, following me.”

“Why’s that? I don’t see any boils on your skin. Not that I see much at all. Besides, if you had the plague, you’d be dead.”

“Aye, but what I have is worse. Much worse.” 

Paracelsus couldn’t imagine anything worse than the plague. After it had laid waste to half of her nation, whatever diseases mankind had deal with before paled in comparison. However, now that she’s closer to him, she can spot the details in his face. The inflamed skin, the discoloration. “You’re a leper,” she says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t respond. Instead, his hulking form turns in another direction, hefting a rucksack over his shoulder. She gives chase, standing beside him like a child does to their eldest sibling. Delight takes over her voice as she begins to pester him. “I’ve never met a leper before!” She says, running ahead a few steps to get a peek at his face again. “I’m a doctor, you know. I’ve always wanted to see one up close.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” He says as he pushes her away, skewing her mask slightly. A hiss follows as she attempts to fix it, giving chase yet again. “At least tell me your name!”

After a sigh, the leper stops in his tracks, letting his rucksack drop behind him. It thuds against the ground, and he turns to look at her. “Baldwin. I’m very tired from my journey, and I would very much like to get some rest. If you would please leave me alone, I would very much appreciate it.”

Yet why would Paracelsus let up after making such an amazing discovery? She remains still next to him as he bends over to rifle through his bag, procuring the items to make a small camp in the spot they stand in. The tree branches and logs make excellent firewood. Baldwin stares as the doctor finds a log to sit on for herself, plopping down and remaining. Over the hour, the camp was made. Baldwin started a fire, fetched water, and cooked himself a meal in the short amount of time. Paracelsus watched him. Baldwin glanced back, on occasion. It was a frightening thing, especially when it seemed like there was no face behind those goggles. Just a shadow, donned in the outfit of something one could hardly call a medical professional. 

“I’m Paracelsus,” the form eventually pipes up. The leper nearly jumps out of his flesh at the sudden outburst, glaring at her for yet another moment before taking a bite out of the pork in his hands.

“I don’t care,” he says as he chews, spitting a piece of fat into the fire. “I don’t need a doctor. I have been bearing this burden long before you began your education. I do not need the help, and I certainly do not  _ want _ it.” His voice grew more and more irritated as she stared back at him, the mask’s blank expression only infuriating him further. If he didn’t contain the respect he had, he would have torn it right off of her, forced her to breathe the air he breathed. To make her understand, to make that sterile world of her’s crumble. But he was better than that, and his anger could be kept in check so long as she didn’t touch his mask. “Go home.”

“But it’s dark,” the doctor cooed, “and I do not think you would let a lady like me wander all the way home on my lonesome. There are bandits, swinefolk, and any number of horrors out here. They could take me in the night. Do unspeakable things to me.” The way she spoke those words made the events sound more pleasant than they were, which only served to unnerve him. She stood, shuffling over to join Baldwin on his log. “Besides, I’m sure the journey here was lonely. Do you not want company?”

There were, of course, ulterior motives to this. Paracelsus had been removed from her school for any number of sacrilegious practices. Dissection of human remains, testing experimental medicines on the unwilling, and….well, let’s just say she knew how to get what she wanted. Paracelsus reached down and found the end of her skirt, tugging it upwards just a little to further her implications. It’s hard to gauge his reaction when all she can see are his lips, but they don’t sneer, and that’s enough for her. Beneath her skirt is nothing but bandages to contain the skin, but that could be changed.

“You will become diseased too,” he grunts, shaking his head. Paracelsus shrugs silently.

“No one sees my face. For all you know, I could be one already.”

The leper scoffs at this, glancing down at her in disgust. The mask stares back. In a funny way, it almost seems as if its smiling. The doctor certainly is. “Fine,” he finally grunts, “but on one condition.”

“Yes,” she says before he has the time to finish the word. 

  
“I have yet to make my intentions known.” The words ooze with disbelief.

“That, my dear Baldwin, is because I simply do not care.”

  


Moments later, she lay before him. Baldwin sits on his log, staring, unmoving as she lies there in wait. Her skirt lays over the log, along with the coat she typically wore over her entire form. Underneath, she wears several other layers, but more of the bandaged “skin” is visible. She hands Baldwin one of her knives, informing her not to let it penetrate skin. Then, she lays on her back and spreads her legs. Her lower half is bandages, wrapped around the thick skin of her hourglass body. Her thighs squish together pleasantly, and Baldwin can only imagine what her ass looks like in the bandages. 

“Roll over,” he commands. She does. He was right. Impeccable.

He stands from his log and begins to remove his trousers. They drop to the ground with  a thud, followed quickly by his undergarments. A lengthy girth hangs between his legs, rising to attention as the doctor raises her ass in temptation. She can feel his hands as they grab at her, his knees landing in the dirt somewhere outside hers. They go for her thighs, then her ass, pulling her cheeks apart in an attempt to explore her. Then, she feels a tug. Some of the bandages come loose. Another tug. More come loose. Baldwin takes the knife to each strand her can get his marred hands on, ripping off more and more of it. Bits of her pasty white flesh begin to protrude from the holes, seeking freedom from imprisonment while the bandages squeeze her. Each cut allows more freedom until the bandages from her waist to her ankles are completely cut away. Discarded beneath, or aside, without a care in the world. 

Once Baldwin starts, he doesn’t seem to care much for the girl behind the mask. The flesh is what interests him most. Her rear is riddled with freckles, but without marking of any other kind. She’s pasty, her skin untinted after being hidden behind cloaks, shadows, and masks. He spread apart her rear again, mouth watering at the sight of her holes in plain view. Paracelsus huffs, feeling cold as she rests her beak on the dirt in front of her. She squirms, and before she knows it, she feels something even colder press against her flesh.

It takes her everything in her power not to yelp at the feeling as the leper presses his face against her ass. The mask’s metal pieces press hard into her flesh as he sniffs and groans. The musk of her holes filling his nose. The scent of sex, which only made his cock grow harder. Briefly, the doctor wondered if the leprosy had worked its way to his weapon yet, but she didn’t want to turn around and find out lest she face his wrath. While ditching her skirt, she’d been told to follow his orders. No exceptions. She didn’t think his orders would be this...cold. He huffs a few more times, groaning all the while, before something warm and wet found its way to her rear chamber. This time, she did yelp, but the warmth was welcomed with a lusty moan from beneath the mask. The tongue felt...strangely pleasant in such a place.

“I hardly think this is sanitary,” she teased, and his hand came down across her arsecheek with a sharp SMACK. Another moan breached her lips. He spanked her a few more times, leaving a dark red handprint in her otherwise uncolored flesh. They were rewarded with their own noises, varying in intensity according to how hard he was willing to hit her. The spanks, mixed with the way his tongue was now wriggling into her hole, was enough to get her wet. Her sex dripped with anticipation, aching with a need that hadn’t been filled since she got off that carriage. Baldwin savored the filthy taste on his tongue, longing to bury the probing appendage as far as it could go as his cock throbbed in his hand. Pulling away to gasp for air, he sent another smack across her jiggling rear, then brought himself up so that his massive member could lay between her cheeks. 

“Ooooh!” Paracelsus squeals as she gauges his length as best as she can, grinding her rear along to tease him, entice him, into finally sticking her like a pig. “I suppose you weren’t compensating after all. Your sword  _ is _ big!” Her speech warrants another smack, which causes the most whorish of moans to break past her slick lips. Her breathing is hot, and the mask only makes it harder. The glass is fogged up, obscuring her vision of the dirt and the fire nearby them. Briefly, she debates taking it off. The need passes immediately as she reminds herself that she was going far enough by letting a leper fuck her. No one could see her face. No one.

The press of his tip to her slick lower lips snaps her out of her trance, dragging her by the ankle into reality. The thing feels massive, even as it pokes and prods. Baldwin thrusts inward, and his cock slips downward against her clit. He hears the doctor moan, then clear her throat. He attempts again, but this time it goes upward, sliding between her ass. The doctor sighs, a gloved hand reaching between her legs to correctly align the leper’s tip. “My god, I should only hope your accuracy is better on the battlefield.” 

He responds not with words, but by spearing his massive member as deep as it will go into her in one rough thrust. A shrill cry comes from the woman, but Baldwin cares not, grunting as he gets a feeling for her tight walls. She’s slick, but not slick enough to accommodate such a girth, and immediately the doctor begins to beg for mercy. “Please,” she grunts, but the leper pretends not to hear her as he pulls back and slams his length in again. More inches stretch her wide, and it feels as if the thing is poking her in the stomach as she groans, drooling in her mask. The leper stretches her to her limits, causing her gloved hands to claw at the ground in agony as he forces her to continue. Her words become choked between gasps as the leper pulls back again, attempting to develop a pace between her moistening walls. 

A mild list of obscenities leave their lips as Baldwin’s pace increases, glancing down beneath the mask to watch her flesh quake as their flesh slaps together. Paracelsus’ mask keeps the loudest of the noises down when they would likely be heard from the Hamlet without it. Baldwin thinks on this. The mask serves a good purpose. Keeps the woman’s face from his mind, and keeps the forest’s creatures from hearing. His pace quickens as his lips finally tug upward, blissful in his roughness. All this time, he had been unable to spend himself, and all he happened to need was a doctor who was far too curious for her own good. The tightness of her walls proves to be nearly addicting, and he can’t help but slam himself as deep as he can over and over, ensuring his balls are slapping her flesh with each raw thrust.

Paracelsus struggles to contain herself as the phallus invades her, hitting her deepest spots in all of the right, and wrong, ways. It’s painful, but in a way she can’t help but enjoy. Spanks continue to riddle her perfect read with red marks, and she can tell by the impact that some will bruise. It was getting easier with more time, though. While once she felt like she was going to be split down the middle, she now felt like she was able to properly handle him. His increases in pace were welcomed with gasps, moans, and the occasional plea for “more, more, fuck, give me more!” The need inside her builds up, leaving her teetering over the edge as his cock hammers her insides.

Neither of them are able to determine how much time passes as Baldwin roughly takes her, not willing to let up even for a moment. All the doctor knows is that she’s sore, and begging, and reduced to a moaning mess by the time she feels him start to throb. His groans get louder, and louder, until she finally feels the telltale pulsing of his orgasm. Not a moment later, wad after thick wad of the leper’s cum shoots into her, filling her with warmth. Baldwin lets his instincts kick in, and they tell him to pump her full until she bears your diseased seed. “Breed her,” the thoughts encourage, and he gives in for a few moments until finally, he pulls free. Not a drop left for him to shoot out upon her bare rear, he stands, fetching his underwear and pants before she has the time to get a good look at him.

It takes a few moments for the girl on the floor to actually move, her fingers settled nicely into the trails clawed into the dirt. When she feels herself beginning to spill, she frantically reaches for her belt with a second wind, finding an empty vial and shoving it between her legs. The sticky, white fluid spills into the vial, filling it about three quarters of the way almost immediately. She still leaks him, but she has what she needs. “The seed of a leper,” she murmurs, chuckling as she shoves the vial back into the pouch, and stands on her own shaky legs. Juices spill down her naked legs as she stands there, fetching her skirt.

“I’m not done with you,” Baldwin grunts at her, and she giggles.

“I know,” she responds, wrapping the skirt around her waist and securing it, “but it is quite chilly. I hope you do not mind my dressing when you aren’t using me.”

Baldwin just grunts again, tossing a few logs of wood in the fire to increase the heat. Whether it’s done on his own volition, or in response to her shaking form is unknown, but Paracelsus can’t help but think the leper is starting to care. She sits next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, as the two savor the fleeting moments they have together in this vile town. Soon, one or both of them would be sent to their dooms, but the least Paracelsus can do is enjoy the warmth in her womb and the company of another.

It wasn’t often that one found such graces, here. They had merely gotten lucky.


End file.
